-Roxy Delgado:
"I need to talk to you," I love my brother but right now I hated him for interrupting my moment with Sloane, he said as he stepped in my room, eyes fixed on me, completely avoiding looking at the flustered doctor who’s stabdibg by the corner. His tone left no room for refusal.
I stretched lazily on my bed, already missing her weight on me, I glancing at Sloane, then at Meteo, then back at Sloane again, watching her fidget with her fingers. "You can say it here. In front of her. It’s fine."
Mateo’s gaze slid toward Sloane, cold, assessing, then back to me. His jaw tightened. "No. Not here. This is club business. It’s private."
Something shifted in the air. I noticed the seriousness in Mateo’s eyes. My playful expression dropped, my smirk melting into seriousness.
I pushed myself upright, reached for my crutches. I notched Sloane trying to step toward me instinctively, ready to help me, but Mateo lifted a hand. "I’ve got her." Then he jogged to me while Sloane stepped back and clenched her fists tight. Is she... Is she mad at my brother for stopping her from helping me?
I would’ve stayed to enjoy teasing her about it if it weren’t for whatever serious business Mateo wants to talk to me about.
The moment Mateo closed the door of my bedroom behind us, leaving Sloane alone in there to wait for me to go back, the world around me shifted.
The teasing, the flirting, the ache I’d stirred in the doctor’s chest—all of that slid to the back of my mind like a dream dissolving at daylight.
What remained was the weight of my brother’s hand steadying me as we moved through the hall, the air thick with silence, the sound of my crutches thumping against the polished wood floors.
I knew this tone in him. I knew this kind of walk. It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t about some stupid errand. This was serious. Club serious.
He didn’t speak until we reached one of the guest rooms, empty, neat, smelling faintly of cedar and laundry soap.
He guided me to the bed with a gentleness only my brothers ever showed me, settled me down onto the mattress, and then pulled a chair across from me.
He didn’t sit right away. He paced, ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight.
Finally, with a sigh that seemed to drag something heavy out of him, he lowered himself into the chair, elbows on his knees, eyes burning into mine.
"What is it?" I asked, impatient. "You dragged me out in the middle of the day. You interrupted my—"
My words caught, the image of Sloane still hovering in my mind. Her body pressed against mine, her hair brushing my face, her green eyes wide and flustered. Heat flickered in my stomach. I pushed it down. "Never mind. Just tell me what’s going on."
Mateo leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. His expression sharpened into something I didn’t see often—fear mixed with anger, the kind of face that meant nothing good was coming.
"The accident wasn’t an accident."
The air left my lungs. For a moment I just stared at him, certain I had misheard. Then the words hit me full force, and my mouth fell open. "What the hell are you talking about? I was run off the road, Mateo. A stupid driver, some idiot—"
"No," he cut me off. His voice was low, deadly calm. "Not some idiot. Not random. Someone planned it. They wanted you dead, Roxy."
My stomach turned cold. "You can’t be serious."
"I am."
I searched his face, waiting for a hint of exaggeration, some trace of teasing. There was none. Mateo wasn’t the type to play games with this. His tone, his eyes, his posture—every detail screamed truth.
Leaning forward, I gripped the edge of the bed. "Who? Why?"
His jaw flexed. "The Serranos."
The name hit me like a punch. My blood ran hot. "The Serranos?"
He nodded grimly. "Yeah. Those bastards. Word is they’re pissed about the shipment we intercepted two months ago. Remember? That run through the docks where we caught them slipping heroin into crates labeled for construction supplies. We burned half their stock before it could hit the streets."
I remembered. Of course I remembered. It had been one of our biggest moves in months, a strike that cut deep into their profits.
The Serranos were ruthless, and we’d humiliated them. I should have expected blowback, but still—the accident, the crash that nearly broke my body into pieces—that being their revenge made bile rise in my throat.
"So they tried to take me out?" I whispered, my fists clenching in the sheets.
Mateo’s gaze hardened. "They didn’t try. They damn near succeeded. You’re lucky to be breathing. If it hadn’t been for that doctor, you’d be in the ground."
Sloane’s face flashed again in my mind. The way she hovered, nervous and steady all at once.
The way her hands never shook, the way she’d been there every day since. I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of just how much I owed her.
I shook my head, forcing myself back to the conversation. "Why now? Why me?"
Mateo leaned back, his chair creaking. "You’re not just some random sister in their eyes, Roxy. You’re part of us. You’re family. They think hurting you hurts all of us. And they’re right. Kyle’s been losing his mind since the crash. The rest of the guys are rattled. They see Serrano making moves, and they see blood in the water."
I clenched my teeth, fury boiling inside me. "So what’s the plan? We’re not just sitting here, waiting for them to finish the job."
"Exactly." Mateo’s eyes lit with that familiar fire, the one that meant war was brewing. "Kyle’s already called a meet tonight. We’ll lay it all out—who hit you, where, when. Then we strike back. We can’t let Serrano think we’re weak. We have to show them that touching you was the biggest mistake they’ve ever made."
A thrill of savage satisfaction cut through my fear. "Good. I want in."
"No." His reply was instant, hard, final.
I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean, no?"
"You’re still healing. You can barely walk without crutches. You think you’re going to ride into Serrano territory right now? Not a chance."
"Don’t you dare sideline me like I’m a child," I snapped, my voice rising. "They came after me. Me. That makes this my fight, Mateo."
His jaw set stubbornly. "It’s the club’s fight. And we’ll handle it. You focus on getting stronger."
I wanted to argue more, but his tone left no cracks to push into. I bit the inside of my cheek, fury simmering, then finally growled, "Fine. But don’t think for a second I’m going to sit quiet forever."
He gave a small nod, as if that was the best compromise he could get out of me. Then he leaned forward again, lowering his voice. "There’s something else. You need to keep that doctor of yours far away from this."
I blinked, thrown. "Sloane?"
"Yes. She’s not part of this world. She doesn’t need to be. The less she knows, the better. As far as she’s concerned, we’re just a biker club. Nothing more. We’re not mafia. We’re not in drug wars. She doesn’t need to see the blood under our fingernails."
My lips curled. "You think I’m going to spill secrets to her?"
"I think you’ve been letting her get close." His eyes sharpened, cutting through me. "Too close. I saw the way she looked at you when I walked in. I saw the way you you look at her. Don’t deny it."
Heat rose in my cheeks. I hated that he could read me so easily. "That’s none of your business."
"It becomes my business if it risks my own sister," he snapped. Then softer, almost pleading, "Roxy, don’t drag her into this. We’ve got enough enemies without pulling some outsider into our mess. Keep her in the dark. For her sake. For ours."
Silence stretched between us. I stared at him, my mind a warzone. Part of me wanted to argue, to defend Sloane, to insist she could handle herself.
But the rational part knew he was right. Sloane was innocent in all of this. She didn’t need to see the bloodshed that followed me like a shadow.
Still, my heart clenched at the thought of keeping her at arm’s length. Of closing her out when all I wanted was to pull her closer.
Finally, I nodded once, curt.
"Fine. She doesn’t know anything. And she won’t."
Mateo studied me, then gave a small satisfied grunt. "Good." He stood, running a hand over his face. "Rest, Come to the club later if u can. But You’ll need your strength so rest."
He moved toward the door, but paused before leaving. "And Roxy?"
"What?"
"Don’t let Serrano see you rattled. They want to break you. Don’t give them the satisfaction."
With that, he left, the door clicking shut behind him.
I sat there on the bed, my chest rising and falling, fury tangled with fear, anger tangled with desire.
The Serranos wanted me gone. My brothers wanted to protect me. And somewhere in all of this, Sloane existed—untouchable, unknowing, yet tied to me in ways I couldn’t unravel.
I pressed my palms into the sheets, staring at the door long after Mateo’s footsteps faded.
One thing was clear. The game had changed.
And I wasn’t going to sit on the sidelines, no matter what my brothers said.